


His Only Concern

by nomelon



Category: Die Hard (Movies), Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-27
Updated: 2011-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't talk much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Only Concern

She doesn't talk much. Gabriel knows she's got at least four languages under her belt, two of them overlapping with the three he speaks, but she doesn't use any of them much around him. She follows orders, relays information, and sometimes gives her opinion when she feels it's pertinent, but does it all with the minimum of fuss. It's starting to drive him a little crazy. Anybody else, he'd be glad of their straightforward professionalism, but lately he's found himself wanting... more. It's nothing he intends to act on. He doesn't have the time or the inclination for romantic entanglements, and he certainly doesn't need the distraction.

Looking back, he supposes he should have seen it coming. The way he's been seeking her out more and more across cluttered meeting rooms jammed with computer geeks drooling over the best equipment that money can buy and some very dangerous men drooling over the best weapons money can buy, but it's her that Gabriel always looks to first for her opinion on any changes to the plans. The way he always seems to find her looking right back, cool and calm, rarely giving a clue as to what she's thinking.

He finds it kind of soothing.

She's the only woman on his team, but he's never seen the men treat her with anything less than the utmost respect. Perhaps that has something to do with the black eye Francois appeared with one morning and then spent the rest of the day very studiously avoiding her, but Gabriel didn't ask. In house squabbling isn't his concern unless it affects the job. The job is his only concern.

It's entirely possible that she planned the whole thing, catching him off guard and cornering him in the back of Warehouse 2, behind the new shipment of weapons stored floor to ceiling in crates. She pushes him up against the wall and he immediately tenses, a fist in her shirt, his knee going between hers, ready to knock her off balance, but instead of a fight, she steps right into his space and kisses him. He's so surprised he does the only thing he can think of and kisses her back.

Her kiss is hard and deep and demanding, telling him more than she's ever said to him with actual words. She gets a hand under his shirt and scratches, and makes the most beautiful sound he's ever heard when he flips them, crowding her up against the wall. She bites her lip and wraps her legs around his waist, urging him on, and he gets hard so fast it's painful. He wants nothing more than to be somewhere away from here, somewhere private, somewhere he could strip her naked and get his mouth on her, see if he couldn't make her lose control a little.

He doesn't have the luxury of time right now. He has to think about the job. Nothing is more important than the job. Nothing. He knows she understands that. She's his most valuable asset, after all.

"I don't want this getting in the way of the work we're doing here," he manages to get out between kisses that make his head spin, kisses that make him feel like they're fucking already, his voice not quite steady. He feels like he's about thirteen years old. He hopes like hell it doesn't show on his face because he's supposed to be the stone cold bad guy, unflappable and in charge. He has a mission. He's going to make the world understand.

She looks up at him, appraising, and gives him a small, enigmatic smile, the first he thinks he's ever seen her wear, and it's all for him. He drinks it in and knows inside that moment that he's a goner.

She slowly unbuckles his belt, and her voice, low and throaty with just the barest hint of accent, flips something hot and achy in his stomach. "Oh, sweetheart," she says. "It already has."

**Author's Note:**

> <http://nomelon.livejournal.com/200996.html>


End file.
